In the early 1990s I worked for a foster care agency in New York City. It was my job as a “homefinder” to interview potential foster parents and assess whether they could provide a nurturing home for traumatized children. The work was an intimate education in human nature, from its most generous to its most sordid, but from a quarter-century’s distance one couple stands at the forefront of my memory.

Juan and Nidia lived in public housing in the Bronx. Having raised their own children to adulthood, they had decided to open their home to foster children. As superintendent for the housing complex, Juan had a steady job that kept him close by. Nidia was a motherly housewife. The two worked well together and had the support of family, friends, and their church in their new endeavor. All these things were common ingredients for a successful foster home.

What was uncommon about Juan and Nidia was their refinement. They had grown up in poverty in the Dominican Republic and neither had advanced past the sixth grade, yet they conducted themselves with quiet grace and perfect, unstudied courtesy. Even under stress they were considerate and gentle. I wondered at their poise. How had they learned it?

In reflecting on this simple couple over the years I have come to believe that their teacher was humility, once called the queen of the virtues. Through her tutorials Juan and Nidia had acquired, not polished etiquette, but natural elegance. Pride, the celebrated vice of the modern age, has dethroned this queen, but she is content to roam the highways and housing complexes and to enter wherever she is welcomed. She wears her crown still, and once invited indoors she waves her scepter and works a spritely alchemy. She makes the home a hidden mansion, its inhabitants a true aristocracy.

Two-thirds of Americans live in cities. The other third live here (actual photo taken in USA!).

The Electoral College has fallen out of favor ….. again. Not since 2000 have so many people felt that the democratic will of the people has been overridden by an anachronistic institution that must be replaced. But calls to abolish the Electoral College overlook three important features of an institution that serves to protect federalism, republicanism, and diversity.

One of the reasons why the Electoral College rubs us the wrong way is that it violates the maxim of equality in voting. The argument that the Electoral College unfairly weights the votes of people in small states is true, but it’s true for Congressional representation as well. For example, Texas gets the same number of senators as Rhode Island, even though we have 27 times the population. In this sense, the relative weight of each Rhode Island vote is 27 times more influential than each Texan’s vote. It’s a similar situation in the House, where differences in state population change the relative influence of each voter (though not as drastically as the Senate).

The idea that each vote must have exactly the same amount of influence isn’t true in any of the elected branches of our federal government. That’s because our government was designed to represent the people of the various states of the Union and not the people of a singular American nation. State-based voting is central to our political system, as evident not only in the Electoral College but also in the state-based election of our US Senators and Representatives. So while we may clamor for more equality in voting, the problem goes beyond just the Electoral College and is sewn into the federal nature of our political system. If we’re serious about equality in voting, we need to look beyond just the presidency.

Our frustration with the Electoral College is also a product of the fact that we tend to emphasize democracy as the American ideal rather than republicanism. Democracy is the idea that we, the people, all get an equal say in making public policy. Republicanism is the idea that we, the people, elect representatives to make those decisions for us. We do this in the House (to represent localities) and in the Senate (to represent the states). The President, as described in the Constitution, is not elected by the people of America but chosen by Electors who represent the interests of the states that comprise the Union. The Electors were, and still are, chosen by state legislatures. So charges that the Electoral College is not a democratic institution are exactly right, but the Framers would contend that democracy was never the objective.

The modern emphasis on democracy overlooks the fact that federalism and republicanism play an important part in our political system – they protect diversity. According to Census data, two-thirds of Americans live in urban areas, areas that occupy about only 4% of American land. The other 96% of the country is home to people who live in rural America. Presidential nominees pay attention to large cities like those found in Texas, New York, and California because those states possess the Electoral College votes needed to win the presidency. But what about the smaller states that lack major urban cities?

In this last election – because of the Electoral College system – little places like New Hampshire and Iowa attracted attention because the polls indicated that their Electoral votes might also be needed to win. The concerns of farmers, ranchers, and rural residents suddenly became important because the Electoral College made them so. In a national popular election, those voices would likely be drowned out by the density and political value of big cities. In contrast to the current system, a national popular election risks elevating the importance of urban America over rural America and transforming the presidency into an agent of the metropolis. The beauty of the Electoral College system is that it secures a voice for people from different backgrounds, races, and cultures throughout the nation. In essence, zip code doesn’t determine political influence.

There is some irony in the push to abolish the Electoral College while lamenting the difficulty of doing so. The Constitution actually makes it very easy for states to act. The Constitution is clear that the American states control the Electoral College, and each state is free to do with its Electors as it pleases. Any state in the Union can decide to award its Electors proportionally, on the basis of direct popular vote, within its borders. Not a single state has chosen to do so (Maine and Nebraska come closest with a Congressional district-based system). The reason they don’t is due to partisan politics over democratic principles.

Activists and politicians may talk a good game, but both Republicans and Democrats want to secure the best odds for their presidential nominee. As a result, 48 states award their Electors on a winner-take-all basis. However, if the people of any state feel now is the time to take a stand and switch to allocation based on popular vote, they can make that change right now via their state legislature. No constitutional amendment or Congressional approval is required. Advocates for abolishing the Electoral College won’t make the change because behind all this talk of democratic principle is a partisan desire to win. Both parties are guilty of it. Democrats figure they will have better odds under a national popular system where the vote would be weighted toward the cities. Republicans understand that the existing federal system provides a check on the influence of Democratic-leaning urban areas. And so, here we are.

Like much of the Constitution, the Electoral College isn’t perfect. It’s a compromise institution for a government built on compromise. At the heart of this debate is a tension between Republicans and Democrats that goes back to the debate over the ratification of the Constitution itself – are we a nation of states or a singular nation? Are we a republic or are we a democracy?

There is a famous story regarding Ben Franklin at the end of the Constitutional Convention. As he was leaving, Dr. Franklin was asked by a passing woman what kind of government the Convention had produced for the American people. He responded “A republic, if you can keep it.”

The Electoral College is part of that republican legacy, and it’s worth keeping.

A few years ago I saw “Love, Janis” at The Alley Theatre. It was one of the best things I had ever seen there, and I didn’t want it to end. The actress channeled Janis Joplin and her songs with aplomb, and it was one of the most successful runs in the history of The Alley.

Now, The Alley offers the stellar “A Night With Janis Joplin,” and although I don’t know how it is possible, it is even better. As in, about six standing ovations before the end of the show better. From the minute the show opens with a rock band, dancing backup singers, and lighting that makes you feel like you really are at a Janis Joplin concert, the atmosphere is electric, and that excitement level never wanes. You immediately plunge into Joplin’s deep pool of emotion and creativity, and you begin to understand how she was able to create music that was never imitative and wholly revolutionary, yet still connected to the musical predecessors that she so admired. It is easy to see how, for her, “Music is everything.”

With superlative musical performances that magically dovetail with the period costumes, the sets (which include a fantastic live band), and even moments of psychedelic images moving rhythmically on a screen, writer and director Randy Johnson orchestrates a perfect storm of music, monologue, and movement that engages the audience the entire time. If this show doesn’t take a piece of your heart, nothing will.

From the moment the music starts, Kacee Clanton as Joplin captivates the audience with her mesmerizing performance of one of the most influential icons of pop music. This is the role of a lifetime, and with her wild long hair, striking physical resemblance to Joplin, and her uncanny ability to embody not only Joplin’s unique and influential vocals, but also the emotional and physical intensity of her performances, it seems as though Clanton was destined to play this role. Clanton has it down, from Joplin’s explosive and emotional performances on stage, to her confessional musings that reveal not only elements of her life story, but her vulnerabilities and strong reactions to the art and music that informed her aesthetics. Clanton’s phrasing is not only pitch perfect when singing, but also when speaking, capturing Joplin’s conversational style in a way that reminded me of Joplin when she would appear on The Dick Cavett Show: witty (“The Blues are so subtle!” and, people “like their Blues singers miserable!”), casual, unimpressed with the stifling conventions of the world around her.

As her conversational monologues with the audience unfold, the aesthetic influences that began with her Port Arthur, Texas upbringing come alive. The entire show dramatizes the kaleidoscope of art that inspired Joplin to become a true original.

As superlative as Clanton’s version of Joplin is, “A Night With Janis Joplin” is not just a one-woman show—for Clanton is accompanied on stage with the performers who influenced her the most, including Bessie Smith (Cicily Daniels), Etta James (Tawny Dolley), Aretha Franklin and Nina Simone—with Franklin and Simone fantastically and unforgettably portrayed by Amma Osei. Along with Jennifer Leigh Warren, these women play multiple roles, having to fill the tall order of alternating between being Joplin’s high energy back-up singers and the icons that had the music that propelled Joplin’s creativity and hard-won insights that permeated her lyrics. The performances of these singers also had the crown riveted—sometimes in silent awe, sometimes clapping along, with several times a song followed by a well-deserved standing ovation. Not only do these performances give an understanding of the music Joplin had in her head, but the individual and group performances of these women are absolutely phenomenal, and I cannot really choose a favorite, because all of them made the hair stand up on the back of my neck, and I could have listened to them all night. How do you channel Etta James or Nina Simone so convincingly? I don’t know—but I don’t care, as long as I can see these four perform again and again. The poignancy of their personal significance to Joplin is made even more intense by the profound talent of their stirring performances, no matter what the song or the genre, the choreography simultaneously bringing to life performance styles from past decades. At one point Aretha Franklin quips, “This is not The Lawrence Welk Show.“ No, no it’s not. It’s a heady cocktail, and you don’t want the party to end.

One of the major themes in the show is the presence of loneliness—not only for Joplin, but for everyone—and the way loneliness was a part of Joplin’s emotional spectrum that inspired her to write such powerful yet relatable songs that shook up the music world. When Joplin states that “The blues are a bad woman feeling good!” you know what she means. The writing is so utterly believable: Joplin calls her father “a secret intellectual,’ confesses that when she got a library card that “it was like the universe opened up,” and that when she looked at art books in a museum-less Port Arthur, it was “like I had come alive.”

The split level set, which allows for a dramatic, silver sequined entrance by Aretha Franklin, as well as moments of shadowy images of Joplin’s beloved group The Chantels, serves as a model of efficiency as it dramatizes how these musical icons psychologically backed Joplin up, continuously sustaining her musical productivity until her death.

From her jeans and bell-bottomed outfits to her whisky-swigging moments, no detail seems to be missing from “A Night With Janis Joplin.” Not a gesture, not a dance move, not a note. When the standing ovation for “Piece of My Heart” was in full throttle, I was right there with everyone on my feet, marveling at Clanton’s performance. Artistic Director Gregory Boyd is absolutely right when he says, “She was unique, she was hugely influential, but mostly she was that rarest of things—a performer whose honesty and feeling were undeniable, and who left something of herself in everyone who heard her.” And for an artist who is so strongly remembered for her untimely death from an accidental overdose, this vibrant show reminds us that when Joplin was alive, she was really alive, a card-carrying Romantic who privileged emotion and feeling over everything else, with music being the most important manifestation of those things. When she reveals that “I just want to feel everything I can,” you are so caught up in her charisma, you want to join that cult of emotion. Joplin admired The Blues and the women who sang them because for her, The Blues “tell it like it is”—providing an authenticity she deeply respected, embodying a “mood” that was “based in the have-not.” Whether she knew it or not, Joplin was a musical feminist, cheering for “the everyday woman.” There is still no one quite like her. “None of us are who we started out as,” Janis tells her audience, and we believe her. She can even wax philosophical, claiming that “song writers…are the real intellectuals” because they “create questions with no answers.” Indeed.

Many of the songs, including “Me and Bobby McGee,” were so entrancing you pretty much thought you were watching Janis Joplin in all of her raspy and raw-throated glory, the suspension of disbelief is so excellently delivered. When you leave this show, the performances teach you something about the nature of great performing in a way that mirrors Joplin’s own view: that “all that really matters are feelings,” and that the worst thing you can do in music, and in life, is to “play games.” Authenticity and truth are better. Joplin “used to want to be Zelda” in an admiration of Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald’s “hell-bent way of living.” She did that, but on her own terms, rejecting traditional paths, and realizing that the most important relationship in her life was with her audience. She tells us, “You’re the One!” and it is magic.

If you weren’t lucky enough to have seen Joplin perform when she was alive, this is the closest you are ever going to get.

“A Night With Janis Joplin” runs at The Alley Theatre August 19-September 18 in the Hubbard Theatre.

Note: A shorter version of this essay appeared in Houstonia Magazine‘s “On the Town” Arts and Culture channel.